Protection
by reading
Summary: Mostly about the development of Ryan's relationship with Kirsten
1. Prologue

_I don't own the OC or any of its characters._

Protection 

Ryan had understood Kirsten from the very beginning. He'd been intimidated by her money and awed by her elegance; but on the most basic of levels, he'd understood.

The first night, when she'd greeted him in the pool house, with her false smile, and nervous hands, he'd understood. _I don't know you. You're a risk. You can stay, but not too close._

The next night, at the party, she'd surprised him sneaking the drink and with her cool, appraising look. "I want my husband to be right about you," she'd said. But he knew she thought Sandy was wrong. _I don't trust you._ And he'd understood.

The angry words for Seth, and the fierce glare she'd given Ryan the next morning as she'd hustled Seth out of the pool house had made him duck his head, avoid her eyes. Seth bruised, and still a little bit drunk, had confirmed her suspicions. Ryan knew he wasn't to blame, but he'd understood.

_Don't mess with what is mine._

Kirsten Cohen protected what was hers. Ryan understood that. And he respected it.

xxxx

Kirsten was the last person Ryan had expected to see that afternoon in the visitor's room at the detention center. He hadn't even sorted through the mortified pleasure he felt at seeing Seth, when Kirsten came into view. He felt a rush of shame course through his body, leaving him flushed in its wake. Even though he'd never had it, and he wasn't sure why he cared, Kirsten's good opinion mattered to him in a way he didn't understand. He hunched his shoulders, hating that she was seeing him like this; the jumpsuit a visible indication of who he was – Ryan Atwood, juvenile offender.

Ryan recognized the signs of her discomfort. She held herself stiffly, twisting the rings on her fingers as she stood slightly to the side, trying to give Seth and Ryan some privacy. That she would be subjected to the crude innuendo of the other boy when she was deliberately doing something he _knew_ she didn't want to, filled Ryan with an icy rage that had exploded when the boy actually moved toward her. That Ryan had managed to get his ass pretty much kicked before the guards broke up the fight, seemed fitting somehow. The final humiliation in his interaction with Kirsten Cohen.

In spite of himself, Ryan replayed the confrontation in his head as he sat, crouched in a corner of the lockdown cell, shaking from an adrenaline crash and a feeling of hopelessness that made his whole body ache. Repeatedly, he got stuck on Seth and Kirsten huddled together as he was dragged from the room. Both of them had been utterly taken aback by the sudden eruption of violence, the shock and confusion plain on Seth's face, as Ryan was manhandled past them.

But the image that Ryan couldn't get out of his mind was Kirsten, arms spread, her slight frame braced as she put herself between Seth and harm. Cool, perfect, gentle Kirsten Cohen had jumped, without hesitation, in between her child and danger. And Seth, backed into a corner, eyes wide, had taken for granted, accepted unthinkingly, his mother's protection.

Ryan closed his eyes wearily and rested his cheek on one of his knees. Drained, at the end of himself, physically and emotionally, Ryan allowed his mind to wander to a place he usually never would have permitted. And he wondered what that would be like – to have a mother who took care of you, instead of needing to be taken care of. Wondered what it would be like to have a parent who risked herself to protect you instead of leaving you to fend for yourself. Ryan rubbed his cheek absently against the rough fabric of his jumpsuit and pressed first one eye, then the other against his knee, blotting at the tears that had formed, too exhausted to fight them at the moment.

Ryan wondered, with a longing that felt like a hole in his chest, what it would be like to have Kirsten Cohen as a mother.

"Atwood." The door to the cell swung open.

Ryan's head came up sharply.

"Looks like this is your lucky day."

xxxx

TBC


	2. chapter 1

_Protection_

_xxxx_

"I can't, Seth."

"Come on, man!" Seth's voice cracked in frustration. "You gotta go!"

"Seth, I can't. I already told Marissa I couldn't make it. I've got to get this paper done." Ryan tried to be patient, but it wasn't easy. He was way behind on the paper, and it was due on Monday.

Seth threw himself down on the bed. "Fine."

"No one's stopping you from going. Go, if you want."

"I'm not going by myself. You remember what happened last time?" Seth rolled his head over so he was looking at Ryan. "Luke's been having a hard enough time. I'd hate for him to get shot again."

Ryan rolled his eyes. "You weren't by yourself – you were with Donnie. You're not planning on hooking up with another psycho are you?"

"I just won't go."

Ryan shrugged and went back to his paper.

"Hey, is Marissa going?"

Ryan sighed. "She said something about going with Summer."

Seth chewed on his lip. "I guess that wouldn't work." Pensive, Seth stared at the ceiling. He'd give almost anything if he could go back to the time when Summer just ignored him or snapped at him. The icy, wounded way she avoided him now made his heart hurt. He couldn't figure out how to make it better.

Ryan saw the sadness on Seth's face, and relented a little.

"She didn't say for sure that they were going together. You could call her and see."

"You think?"

Ryan lifted a shoulder in response.

"You don't mind?"

Now, Ryan raised an eyebrow at him.

"Right."

Seth jumped off the bed. "I'll go call."

Ten minutes later he was back, bounding through the door.

"Marissa's going."

"Cool."

Seth flopped onto the bed again.

"Do you think Summer will be there?"

Ryan let his head fall back and put his hands over his face.

"Seth."

"Sorry." Seth sat up. "You work. I'll go."

Ryan inclined his head. "Thank you."

Ryan was still sitting at his desk, with his head in his hands, fingers clutching spasmodically at his hair. There was so much information. He couldn't figure out how to get it on paper. Scrubbing his hands roughly over his head, he jumped and turned around when Marissa flew through the door into the pool house.

"Heeeeey."

"Hey," he smiled as she kissed him.

"How's it going?"

He turned to look sadly at the books on the table.

"Not good."

"So, no chance you can go?"

"Sorry."

"Come on," she smiled, kissing him again and pressing up against him. "Just for a little while."

Ryan kissed her back, pulling her close. "I can't."

"Pleeease," she continued to kiss him, moving her mouth from his lips, across his jaw, to his neck.

Ryan angled his chin up to give her better access. "Mmmmmm. I can't, Marissa, I've got to work on this paper."

"It's not due till Monday! You've got all weekend. We'll just go for awhile."

"Marissa." Ryan pulled away slightly. "You know I'm having a hard time in this class. I have to do well on this assignment, and I just can't...."

Marissa started to kiss him again, more insistently, rubbing her hands up his chest. "Come onnnnnn." Kiss. "Just." Kiss. "For." Kiss. "A." Kiss. "Little." Kiss. "Bit."

"Marissa, stop." Ryan was smiling as he drew back. She followed him, kissing him harder. Suddenly uncomfortable, Ryan took her shoulders in his hands and pushed her away gently. "What's going on?"

Marissa jerked out of his grasp. "Nothing. I just can't believe you're ditching me for some stupid paper."

"I'm not ditching you. I told you I couldn't go tonight." Ryan stared at her, confused. "I don't understand why you're mad – you knew I wasn't going."

Flouncing away from him, Marissa pouted. "I thought when Seth called he was covering for you." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm not going to go without you."

Ryan gritted his teeth. "You told Seth you'd go."

"Well, I thought I was agreeing to go with you. I changed plans with Summer so I could go with you." She pondered. "Maybe I'll see if Summer wants to go now."

"But Seth...."

"Seth will be OK."

"You told him he could go with you!" Ryan was starting to get angry.

Marissa frowned at him. "So? Seth's not going to care if I change plans."

Ryan looked at her incredulously. "Are you serious? Marissa...."

But Marissa was ignoring him, turning her back as she put her cell phone to her ear.

"Hey, Summer!" Marissa chirped into the phone. "Turns out Ryan isn't going to the party, so I'm free again."

Ryan could hear the tone of Summer's voice across the room, and it was clear she wasn't happy.

"What are you so mad about?"

There were more angry words from the other end of the line.

"Summer, he's my boyfriend! Of course, I'm going with him if he's going."

From the shrill sound now piercing Ryan's eardrums and apparently Marissa's, that hadn't been the response Summer was hoping for.

"Summ...."

Individual words were now distinguishable – "inconsiderate," "Chino," "second choice."

"Fine!" Marissa yelled into the phone and snapped it shut.

She glared at Ryan, and stormed out the door.

"Marissa!" Ryan started after her. Just as he reached the door, he saw Seth burst out of the back door of the house.

"Hey!"

"Come on, Seth." Marissa cast another angry glance over her shoulder at Ryan. "Let's go."

Sensing the tension, Seth glanced at Ryan. "Okaaaay. Ry...."

"Seth!" Marissa snapped.

Eyes darting from one to the other, Seth raised a hesitant hand at Ryan, waving slightly, then darted after his ride. Before he disappeared around the corner, he turned, walking backwards as he gestured from his eyes to Marissa's retreating back. "I'll keep an eye on her," he mouthed.

Ryan had decided that a different locale might help get the creative juices flowing, so he'd packed up his laptop and books, and camped out in the den. Easy access to the kitchen and the quiet hum of the television in the background seemed to have helped and he was engrossed in his writing when the phone rang. Finishing his thought, Ryan reached for the phone.

"Chino, are Cooper and Cohen there?"

"What?" Ryan looked up at the clock on the VCR – 1:10. He'd lost track of time. With the parental units gone for the evening, there wasn't an enforceable time Seth needed to be home, but it surprised Ryan he was out this late. "They're not here."

"They're not?" Summer's voice was unhappy. "You haven't seen them?"

"Not since they left for the party." Ryan eased the computer off his lap. "Why?"

Miserably, Summer sighed. "They were pretty wasted. I told Marissa to come find me before they left, but ...."

"Wasted? Marissa's not supposed to be...."

"You think I don't know that! I tried to get her to ease up, but she wouldn't listen." Summer was starting to get angry. "I thought Seth would be able to keep her under control, but the next thing I knew, he was acting as loaded as she was."

"Did you look for the car? Maybe they're walking home."

"Of course I looked for the car! It wasn't there." Ryan heard a horn scream over the phone as Summer cursed loudly. Ryan raised an eyebrow.

"Where are you?"

"In the car trying to find them, what do you think?" Her voice was a snap, but Ryan could hear the worry underneath it. "They'd head home, wouldn't they?"

"Yeah. I think." He was on his way to the kitchen for the keys to the Range Rover. "I'll start from here. Where are you?"

He had just reached the front door, when it swung open, almost knocking him down. He staggered back as Marissa stumbled through the door.

"Heeeeeeeey," she lisped as she moved in for a kiss.

"Marissa," Ryan head snapped back away from her, the smell of alcohol almost making him gag. "Did you drive?" He steadied her even as he tried to move past her. "Where's Seth?"

Marissa giggled. "Seth is soooooo wasted." Ryan scowled at her, propping her against the doorjamb. He brought the momentarily forgotten phone back to his ear. "Summer, they're..." Before he could finish, there was a squeal of tires as Summer pulled up the drive. Ryan eased Marissa to the ground before she could fall down, and ran quickly down the front steps.

"God damn it, Coop!" Summer scream of rage could be heard through the closed car door. Flinging open the door, Summer stormed up the drive. "What the _hell_ were you thinking?

Ryan peered through the window of the Cherokee to see Seth sprawled across the back seat. Shaking his head with relief and frustration, Ryan pulled the door open.

"Come on, man, you gotta get up." Ryan shook Seth. No response. Ryan grunted in annoyance, and climbed into the Jeep. "Seth." He gave his friend a shove. "Get up." Still no movement. Ryan looked over his shoulder to see if he could get any help from Summer, but she was mid-harangue with Marissa, who was grinning stupidly at her friend.

Knowing he couldn't expect anything from Summer, Ryan eased back out of the car, grabbing Seth by the arms to pull him clear. Seth was a dead weight and Ryan overbalanced as he tugged. Still hanging onto Seth's arms, Ryan toppled over, unceremoniously jerking Seth on top of him. Ryan's breath left him abruptly as he landed hard on the pavement, and he lay breathless, Seth's inert form pressing against his chest.

"Get _off_!" he panted, pushing hard.

He rolled Seth to one side. Seth landed on his back, limbs splayed.

Unconsciously, Ryan mimicked Seth's position, arms akimbo, as he tried to catch his breath.

"God." He looked over at Seth.

In the porchlight, Seth's face was pasty. Frowning, Ryan crawled toward his friend.

"Seth?" More gently now, Ryan shook Seth's shoulder. He put a hand on Seth's cheek. He was clammy and Ryan felt Seth start to shake. "Seth?" Ryan felt the fear begin to well up, as he tried to rouse his brother. "Wake up!" There was no response except an agonized groan. Ryan pulled Seth toward him, shaking him. "Wake up!"

Summer suddenly became aware of the rising urgency in Ryan's voice. She turned from Marissa and met Ryan's frightened eyes.

"Summer, this isn't right. It isn't right." Summer ran down the steps and dropped to her knees beside Ryan.

"What is it?" Summer looked uncertainly at Ryan. "He's drunk."

"No. No! This is different. It isn't right." Ryan moved toward Seth's feet. "Get his arms." He hooked his own arms underneath Seth's knees.

"What?!"

"Help me."

"What? What are you doing?" Summer grabbed Seth under his arms.

"We're going to the hospital."

"The hospital?! Chino, he's just drunk." She staggered slightly under Seth's weight.

"No, he's not. There's something wrong." Ryan backed into the Range Rover, settling Seth.

"Go get Marissa. We can't leave her here."

"What did he take?" The doctor examining Seth moved quickly around the gurney, nurses and orderlies swirling around him. He was barking orders, and he had turned sharply to Ryan, rapping out the question.

Ryan blinked. His eyes went from Seth to the doctor and back again. "I...."

"What did he take?" The doctor took Ryan's arm, giving him a little shake.

Ryan looked at the doctor.

"I don't.... Nothing! He wouldn't have taken anything. He doesn't ...."

"Were you with him?"

"No, but...."

"Who was with him?" He turned to Summer. "Were you? Did he take anything?"

Summer shook her head. "No! I saw him with a drink. I didn't see him take anything!" She had started to cry. "He wouldn't."

"Look. I'm not trying to bust any of you, do you understand that? But I have to know what he's on to be able to treat him." He blew out a breath in frustration. "Who was with him?"

Summer and Ryan turned to Marissa, who slumped, almost unconscious, on one of the waiting room chairs.

xxxx

"He was being such a drag, following me around, watching me, talking to me." Marissa started to cry. "I only wanted him to leave me alone. Blake said it would just make him happy!"

Ryan stared at her in disbelief. "Seth took drugs?"

Marissa's swiped at her tears, eyes shifting to Summer. "He..."

"You put it in his drink," the dark headed girl said, realization dawning.

"I..." Marissa opened her mouth, but was unable to find the right words.

"You drugged him?" Ryan's voice was incredulous.

The doctor intervened, quickly.

"What did it look like? Can you describe it?" Taking Marissa by the shoulders, he shook her. "What was it?"

"I don't know!" She looked at Ryan. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean anything!" She reached for Ryan. "Please!" She was sobbing, twisting away from the doctor.

The doctor struggled to get her attention, taking her chin in his hand and turning her face to him. "You have to tell me what you gave him."

Marissa refused to be distracted. "Ryan," she pleaded. "Don't be mad at me. I just wanted him to leave me alone." Her breath was hitching. "Please, don't be mad! Please!"

Frustrated, the man turned to Ryan. "Help me."

The doctor's urgency finally penetrated Ryan's numbness over the shock of Marissa's behavior, and he dropped to knees beside Marissa. "Marissa, what did you give him?" Still crying, Marissa sniffed, "I'm sorry, Ryan, please...."

Ryan shook his head, giving her a strained smile. "It doesn't matter," he said. "It doesn't matter."

"Please don't be mad," she reached out to stroke his cheek. Ryan resisted the urge to cringe away from her touch.

"I'm not mad, but you have to tell us what you put in Seth's drink, OK?" Ryan looked at the doctor. "Was it a pill? Or a powder?" The doctor nodded his head encouragingly. He was struggling not to slap the girl, but it looked like the boy had finally gotten through to her.

Marissa put her head on Ryan's shoulder. "A pill. It was little and blue." She sighed. "I'm glad you're not mad. I love you. Seth was being such a pain."

xxxx

The doctor had rushed back to Seth once he realized he'd gotten all the information out of Marissa he could. Ryan and Summer had stared after him.

Marissa had passed out almost immediately, and Ryan had gotten away from her as quickly as possible. Summer, confusion and hurt in her eyes, had followed Ryan across the waiting room.

"She put something in his drink? I don't...." She stumbled to a halt. "I don't understand how she could...." She stopped and looked back at Marissa, lost. Summer's whisper was broken with tears.

"When did she become this person?"

xxxx

Ryan talked to Sandy after the doctor had. Sandy had been deadly calm – in lawyer mode, clipped, to the point – _Are you OK? Are the girls OK? We'll be there soon._ Ryan had hung up feeling a sharp ache of loneliness, disconnected himself.

Summer was hunched in the corner of one of the couches, knees drawn up, eyes tracking with Ryan's every movement. He sat down gingerly next to her, perched on the edge of the sofa.

"They're coming."

When the Cohens entered the waiting room, they saw Summer and Ryan on one side of the room, both tucked into the end of one of the couches, sharing a single cushion – Summer was curled into a ball in the corner, Ryan ramrod stiff next to her. They were so close they were almost touching. Almost, but not quite. It was an odd tableau. They gave the appearance of togetherness, but their isolation was palpable. On the other side of the room, sprawled on a couch was Marissa. Both Summer and Ryan had their eyes fixed on Marissa's inert form when the Cohens came into the room, but their heads snapped around when Sandy and Kirsten walked through the door.

The two teenagers stood uncertainly as the adults hurried across the room. Kirsten had thought her only concern was Seth until she saw Ryan's pale face. Without hesitation, she reached for him, impulsively pulling him into her arms. Ryan responded with an involuntary desperation, wrapping his arms tightly around her, pressing his face into her neck. Kirsten almost smiled, in spite of herself, at the feel of Ryan's cold nose against her collar bone, but was sobered by the tremors that shook the boy's sturdy frame. The fingers that clutched at the back of her blouse were icy through its thin silk.

He's frightened, Kirsten realized with a jerk in her heart. She reached a hand up and smoothed it over Ryan's head. "Shhhh, sweetie. Shhhhh." She rocked gently back and forth as she held him. "We're here."

Ryan had felt an odd numbness as he'd waited with Summer for the Cohens. A familiar sense of aloneness had settled into his bones. He'd been here before. Different hospital, but.... Same waiting, same emptiness, same fear. That time it had been his mother rushed to the hospital, whisked away into the unknown bowels of the building, and Trey sitting next to him, both boys frightened and on their own.

An odd feeling of déjà vu almost overwhelmed him, and he'd stared across the room at Marissa. How had she gotten him back to this place again? He tried to remember what he'd ever felt for her. But he couldn't get a hold of it. It was gone and all he felt was the cold.

His mother had died that night, they'd told him, but they'd brought her back to life. He tried to think what he'd do if Seth died, but it was incomprehensible to him. So he didn't think at all.

And he hadn't felt anything but the cold until Kirsten and Sandy had come through the door. He hadn't been prepared for the relief that had washed over him when he saw his foster parents, and was barely conscious of falling into Kirsten's arms as she'd drawn him close. He'd only recognized that she was there, that Sandy was there, and that they would take care of everything. This time the burden would not be his.

Kirsten turned slightly, never loosening her hold on Ryan, catching Sandy's eyes over Summer's head. The girl had burrowed into Sandy's chest, crying as Sandy ran a hand up and down her back. He, too, was doing his best to comfort the child that clung to him. "Have you talked to the doctor?" Sandy asked it softly, looking down at Summer and then over at Ryan. Summer shook her head, never lifting her face from Sandy's shirt front. Ryan shook his head, too, but managed disentangle himself enough from Kirsten to meet Sandy's eyes.

"Not since he talked to you."

Sandy reached out and put a comforting hand to Ryan's cheek.

"I'm going to see what I can find out." Smoothly, Sandy shifted Summer into Kirsten's care. Without letting go of Ryan, Kirsten wrapped an arm around Summer, and guided both kids to the couch. They sat, silently, in a row, SummerKirstenRyan. Tears streaked down Summer's cheeks, while Kirsten, arm around Summer's shoulders, skimmed a hand up and down the girl's arm. On Kirsten's other side, there were no tears, but Ryan continued to shake, holding her hand tightly.

xxxxx

When Sandy walked back into the waiting room, his eyes went involuntarily to Marissa's unconscious form before he focused again on his family.

Kirsten had stood when Sandy came in; Summer and Ryan following her up.

"He's going to be fine."

On a sob, Kirsten stepped into Sandy's arms.

"They pumped his stomach, and he'll need to stay overnight," Sandy said it into Kirsten's neck. "But he'll be OK." Reaching out, Sandy drew Ryan and Summer into the hug with Kirsten. "He's going to be all right."

"Where's Marissa?!" Julie Cooper's voice rang through the room. "Where's my daughter?" Her eyes found the unconscious form on the couch, and, with an anguished cry, she threw herself at the couch where Marissa was passed out. She tucked a strand of hair behind Marissa's ear. "Baby?" She stroked her daughter's face, but the girl was unresponsive. Turning, Julie saw the huddle of the Cohens and Summer start to break apart. Her eyes settled on Ryan.

"What have you done to her?" She screamed it, hurtling across the room, hand raised to strike him.

Unprepared for an attack, Ryan could only brace himself for the blow, eyes closing in anticipation of the slap. But it never came.

"Don't you dare." Kirsten's cold voice made Ryan's eyes blink open and shift from Julie's enraged face, just inches in front of him, to Kirsten's hand, gripped tightly around Julie Cooper's wrist.

Ryan's eyes widened in surprise, and he took an uncertain step back, away from the two women. Kirsten stepped into the gap.

"If you _ever_ lay a hand on him...."

Ryan stared at Kirsten, unsure what to do, what to say, but Sandy was there and moved forward, laying a reassuring hand on Ryan's back and then a calming one on Kirsten's. But his voice was hard as he now put himself between Julie Cooper and his wife. And Ryan.

"She's drunk."

"Wha...?" Julie started to sputter.

"And she put drugs in Seth's drink. He's the reason the kids are here." Sandy looked across the room at Marissa. "The doctor said Ryan may have saved Seth's life."

"That's a lie!" Julie spit out. "Marissa would never...."

"She did." Summer said it softly, but clearly.

All eyes turned to her.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Cooper, but she did." Summer's eyes welled up and over. "She told us that she did."

Julie's stony demeanor crumpled slightly, but she soldiered on.

"If you...." She pointed an accusatory finger at Ryan.

"No." Kirsten stepped around Sandy. "This is not Ryan's fault."

Julie rounded on Kirsten. "If he'd...." But Kirsten wasn't having any of it.

"Ryan." Ryan jumped at Kirsten's voice. She turned toward him, ignoring Julie.

"Why don't you and Summer go sit with Seth?" Her expression softened at Ryan's startled, wide-eyed gaze. She ached to be with Seth, but Sandy said he was going to be fine, and this needed to be dealt with. Now. Sandy met her eyes. He knew she wanted Ryan out of Julie's line of fire.

"He's in room 312." Sandy nodded at Ryan and Summer, indicating his agreement with Kirsten's suggestion.

Hesitantly Ryan moved away from the adults, Summer beside him.

He watched Sandy and Kirsten carefully, "O.K."

"We'll be right there."

xxxx

"How's he doing?"

Ryan and Summer turned from Seth's bedside.

Kirsten pushed past the two awkward teenagers, putting her arms around her son.

"Sweetie?"

Still unconscious, Seth made a plaintive sound, and turned toward his mother.

Ryan backed away from the bed, gravitating toward Sandy. Summer moved away, too, but stayed close.

"Is everything OK?" Ryan's voice was quiet, not sure what might have happened after he and Summer had left.

Sandy put an arm around Ryan's shoulders and pulled him to his side.

"Everything's fine."

Sandy was surprised that Ryan didn't pull away immediately. And, in fact, Sandy felt the boy relax slightly against him. He took a risk and kissed Ryan softly on the temple.

"The doctor said your quick reaction kept things from getting too bad." He pulled back slightly to look at Ryan. "Bringing Seth in, getting Marissa to talk."

Ryan wouldn't look him in the face. "I never would've thought...."

Sandy tightened his embrace. "None of us would have, Ryan. It's not your fault." Almost imperceptibly, Ryan leaned a little more into Sandy.

"I'm sorry about Julie Cooper," Sandy said softly, shaking his head. "I can't believe she tried to hit you."

"Kirsten didn't let her." Ryan's voice was a whisper, and Sandy turned to him. But Ryan's eyes were on Kirsten. The look on Ryan's face was an expression of such awe, such wonder, that it took Sandy's breath away, and he had to work to get the words past the lump in his throat.

"No," he said gently, his own eyes fixed on his wife. "She didn't."


	3. Chapter 2

_Protection, chapter 2_

Ryan sat on the porch in the warm summer evening and longed vaguely for a cigarette. It was a perfect night to sit outside and smoke, but a lingering sense of loyalty to Kirsten kept him from indulging. Tilting his head back against the house, he listened to the sounds of the neighborhood – dogs barking, kids shrieking, the incessant sound of traffic hurtling down the interstate 10 blocks away. The sun was just going down, and the air around the house seemed blue as he gazed lazily out toward the street through hooded eyes.

He was tired after a long shift. It was a good tired, though, he thought. He liked his job; liked the physicality of working construction, liked the easy camaraderie with the men, who seemed to accept him unreservedly in spite of his youth. Ryan worked hard, determined to do well. The pay was good, and he was hoping to stay on part time in the fall.

Ryan knew that Kirsten had pulled some strings to get him hired. After a week of getting doors slammed in his face, desperate to start making some money, he'd called to ask about possible construction sites where he might apply.

xxxx

The initial silence that had greeted his request had been heavy, and Ryan had started to backpedal immediately, suddenly overwhelmed with embarrassment and horror that he'd actually asked for help and Kirsten was refusing. He'd only managed to stutter out the beginnings of a retraction when her soft voice cut him off.

"This is just for the summer, right, Ryan?" He heard the hesitation in her voice. "You aren't dropping out of school?"

He felt the humiliated hammering of his heart start to subside. "No. Just for the summer."

"Do you promise me, Ryan? I don't want to do this if it means you're giving up school. We can work something out."

"Just for the summer. I promise." The words were out and he was committed. The truth was, though, that he and Theresa hadn't talked about school yet. He chewed on his lip. "But I'm not sure ..." He stopped.

"I know you're not sure about anything right now, sweetie." She was so gentle. "Just please don't make any decisions about school without talking to Sandy and me, OK? We want to help, if you'll let us."

Ryan had felt the prickle of tears in his eyes and the sharp ache of loneliness and missing her and Sandy and Seth and home. It had been a long day of rejection and the dawning realization that he was in way over his head. He'd nodded into the phone and said, "I know," with only the slightest waver in his voice.

"Let me call around and see what I can find out."

"Thanks, Kirsten. I really appreciate it."

"I know you do, sweetheart." She paused. "How are you? Is everything OK? We miss you."

Ryan swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat at her words. He hadn't expected it to be this hard. He hadn't expected the Cohens to be so persistent in pursuing him, even to Chino. When Sandy had said he wasn't going to let Ryan go, Ryan had heard him and believed him. He always believed Sandy. But he hadn't really thought it would translate into anything tangible. He hadn't thought it would mean calls every day, just to check in. He hadn't thought it would mean invitations to dinner or gifts for Theresa and the baby. He was overwhelmed, again, by the Cohens' ability to love so unconditionally and was unsure how to respond. He hated always being the taker of their support, but he didn't feel like he had much to give in return.

"Everything's fine." Ryan heard the sigh from the other end of the line, and tried again. "I guess... I guess today was kind of hard." He knew he could give her this, but years of silent protectiveness were difficult to get past. "No one wants to hire a kid with a record."

Kirsten heard the shame and bitterness in his admission, and her heart broke a little for him. Again.

"I'm sorry, Ryan. That sucks." Ryan couldn't help but smile.

"Don't say 'sucks,' Kirsten."

Her laughter rang out unexpectedly and Ryan's smile turned into a grin. He loved it when he made Kirsten laugh. Her real laugh made only rare appearances, and the man and two boys who lived with her thrilled to the sound of it, especially whichever one was responsible for it.

"I'm so proud of you, sweetie; that you keep trying, that you don't give up."

An abashed silence was the only response she got. Ryan cleared his throat.

"How's Seth?"

Seth was a different matter altogether. Since he'd been returned, under protest, by the Coast Guard two days into his trip, he'd reverted to "pre-Ryan" Seth with a vengeance. He was sullen and sarcastic, isolating himself, and refusing to talk to his parents or to Ryan. Kirsten wavered between a sort of grief for him in his hurt and absolute fury over his selfishness. He wasn't the only one who was hurting, and his refusal to see beyond himself disappointed both of his parents.

"About the same." She huffed out a breath of frustration. After last night's mostly silent, overwhelmingly seething dinner, Kirsten had moved beyond "let's give him some time" to "he's not too old for a spanking." But she hadn't been about to share that information with Ryan.

"I'm sorry."

"Ryan. We've had this conversation before. It isn't your fault. Seth's a big boy. I know he was hurt and disappointed by your decision to leave," neither Kirsten nor Sandy would sugar-coat that for Ryan, even if they could, "but that doesn't excuse him." In her frustration, she went further than she probably should have. "He's acting like a spoiled brat, and, while I love him dearly, I don't like him much at all right now."

The shocked silence on the other end of the phone alerted Kirsten to the fact that she'd said too much.

"Sweetheart, I'm just frustrated and sad and not sure what to do, so I'm a little grouchy. OK?"

"I..." Ryan didn't know what to say. He knew another "I'm sorry" would not go over well, but he couldn't think of anything else, and it was the only thing that expressed how he felt.

"I know you don't want me to say I'm sorry any more, but I am." There was exhaustion and the faintest hint of tears in his voice. "I feel like I made this decision and all it's done is hurt you and Sandy and Seth. I thought it was the right thing to do – I think it's the right thing to do – but I've made you all so unhappy. And you've done so much for me. I just...." He trailed off. "I don't know how to fix it. At least, not without breaking something else. And even then...."

It was the first time he'd verbalized that struggle to Kirsten, and she considered her words carefully.

"Ryan. Listen to me, OK? You made a difficult decision, and one you believe is the right one, and I – Sandy and I – respect that, and we're proud of you for it." She hesitated slightly, unsure about how honest she should be. "But the truth is any choice we make has consequences, and sometimes those consequences are hard and sometimes they affect other people in ways that are painful. But that doesn't mean we should take the easy way out. If Sandy and Seth and I find that your going back to Chino hurts in some ways – in spite of your good intentions – we have choices, too. We can choose to try to understand why you made the decision you did and support you in it. Or we can choose to reject the choice you made and, in effect, you." He could hear the sadness in her voice. "Seth is making his own choice right now that hurts us and you."

Kirsten rubbed her eyes. She was so tired of how hard this all was. "Seth loves you and he has a good heart, but he's refusing to see beyond his own pain right now."

She gave him some time to hear what she'd said.

"Does that make sense, Ryan?"

"Yes."

She smiled, "Do you believe it?"

"I don't know."

"Well, you're honest." Kirsten purposefully lightened her tone. "Whether you believe it or not, it's the truth. I'm willing to give you time to come around."

Now Ryan smiled. "Thanks."

There was a comfortable silence.

"I better let you go. Thanks for checking about a job for me."

"You're welcome. I'm glad that you called. I'll check in with you tomorrow, OK? Let you know what I found out?"

"OK. Thanks."

"Bye, sweetie. We love you."

"Bye." Ryan hesitated. "Me, too."

xxxx

Kirsten had called the next day with a name, and he'd started work two days later.

xxxx

Ryan dropped his hard hat and lunch box on the kitchen table when he walked into the house. It was quiet, dark.

"Theresa?" Ryan wandered through the house, exhausted after a long, hard day.

The light was on in the bathroom, and he rapped softly on the door before he swung it open.

"Theresa?"

No one. Blood on the floor.

Heart pounding in his ears, Ryan backed out of the room. "Theresa!" Even as his head was telling him she wasn't there, he ran frantically through the house, calling out to her. "Theresa!" It wasn't a big place, and he ended up in the bedroom. More blood – on the floor, the bed.

Ryan stood in the middle of the room. He couldn't get his brain to work. _What... Where..._ He couldn't form a coherent thought. His phone. Maybe....

Dashing back to the kitchen, he threw open the lid to his lunch box, rooting around for the phone the Cohens had insisted he have when he moved back. Hands shaking, he fumbled for it, flipped it open. Nothing. He dialed Theresa's cell number, left a desperate message.

He looked around. No note. No message on the machine.

xxxx

Sifting through files on his way into the office, Sandy cursed when his phone rang. Struggling to hold on to the stack of paper in one arm, Sandy fished in his pocket with his other hand, pulling out the chiming, vibrating piece of technology.

"Yeah," he snapped.

Dead air.

"Hello?" Sandy pressed the phone harder against his head. "Is there anyone there?" He was having a hard time keeping the annoyance out of his voice.

"Sandy." He could barely hear it, and Sandy pulled the phone away to check the caller ID. "Ryan?"

"Sandy."

"Ryan, what...?"

"There's blood." Sandy felt his entire body go cold. "She's not... . I don't ...."

Sandy had reached his office, and he shut the door, dropped the files on the floor, and pushing the phone into his ear as far as he could, covered his other ear with a hand, hoping that the stuttering, broken voice on the other end of the phone would become clearer.

"Ryan. Slow down, kid. Take some deep breaths, OK? What blood? _Whose_ blood?"

Ryan was sitting on one of the kitchen chairs, phone clutched in his hand. Unconsciously, he was rocking back and forth.

"Ryan, _whose blood is it?_"

"I don't know. There's no one here. Theresa's not here. Her mom's not here." _Sandy, tell me what to do. I don't know what to do._

"Is there a note?"

"No."

Sandy was pacing around his office, when he suddenly snapped around and headed toward the door. Kicking the files out of his way, he hurried out of his office and down the hall.

"Are there signs of a struggle, do you think someone broke in? Have you called the police?"

Ryan didn't respond. He forced himself to look around the house, to ask the questions that Sandy was hurling at him.

"Ryan." Sandy's voice was sharp with concern.

"No. No. I... I don't think anyone's broken in. I thought... What about the baby?"

Sandy unlocked the BMW and slid into the car.

"Who's her doctor? Do you have the number?"

"I don't. I... Theresa always made the appointments. I never..."

"OK, OK. Let's think about this." Sandy pulled into traffic. "What about an emergency clinic? Would they have taken her there?"

xxxx

_Ryan held Theresa's hand, and listened to the swish, swish, swish of the baby's heartbeat through the speakers. He watched with awe as the fuzzy black and white image of the sonogram, shifted and pulsated on the monitor. There was a little person in there._

xxxx

Sandy pulled into the parking lot of the clinic, wincing as his tires squealed in protest. He'd just hung up with Kirsten, letting her know where he was, what was happening. Throwing the door to the car open, he ran through the doors of the building, up to the admitting desk.

"I'm looking for Theresa...," Sandy started.

"Sandy."

Twisting away from the nurse, Sandy almost ran into Ryan, who had come up behind him.

"Is she OK?" Sandy pulled Ryan into a tight hug. He felt the shake of Ryan's head against his shoulder.

Sandy closed his eyes. "Oh, Ryan."

Ryan stepped back, out of Sandy's embrace. "She lost the baby."

"Ryan, I'm so sorry." Sandy reached out to touch Ryan, but dropped his hand before he made contact, sensitive to the _Don't_ vibe that suddenly seemed to radiate off his foster son. He put his hands in his pockets. "Have you seen her?"

Shaking his head, Ryan wrapped his arms around his midriff. "They won't let me."

"Who won't let you?"

Ryan indicated the nursing staff with stiff motion of his head.

"We'll see about that."

Sandy marched back to the admitting desk.

"My name is Sandy Cohen. Why won't you let my son see Theresa Martinez?"

"This is your son?" Ryan had trailed after Sandy, and stood anxiously to the side.

"Yes."

"I thought he said his name was Ryan Atwood."

"It is." Sandy voice was hard.

"Oh. Well." She looked somewhat apologetically at Ryan. "I'm afraid that Ms. Martinez said specifically she didn't want to see Mr. Atwood."

Sandy turned sharply.

"Ryan?"

But Ryan was clearly stunned. His mouth opened and closed and he started shaking his head. "I..."

"Have you guys been fighting?"

"No, Sandy. I don't..."

The devastated look on Ryan's face tore at Sandy, and he tried again.

"There's no way you can let him in?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Cohen."

Sandy sighed. "Will she see me, do you think?"

Taking pity on them both, the nurse said, "Let me ask." She left the waiting area.

They stood in silence.

"Mr. Cohen, she said she'd see you."

Sandy heard Ryan take a sharp breath. He put a careful hand on the boy's shoulder. "I'll talk to her OK?"

Ryan couldn't bring himself to look at Sandy. "OK," he whispered. And Sandy walked through the doors to Theresa.

xxxx

_Later that night, Ryan put a gentle hand on the soft swelling of Theresa's abdomen, as she lay on her bed. In his head he heard the sound of the baby's heartbeat again. He leaned down and put his ear to her belly._

_He felt a hand on his head, and heard her soft laughter. _

"_Can you hear it?"_

_Shaking his head, Ryan smiled at her as he sat upright, his hand still resting on her stomach._

"_No."_

_The door to Theresa's room swung open a little wider, and Ryan pulled his hand away quickly. Mrs. Martinez stuck her head into the room._

"_I want this door all the way open when the two of you are in here."_

_Theresa rolled her eyes at Ryan. "Yes, Mama."_

"_It's kind of like closing the barn door after the horse is already out, isn't it?" he whispered to her with his sly grin, after her mother had left. _

_Theresa sighed. "Yeah." She put her own hand on her stomach. "It's not like I can get knocked up again."_

_Ryan watched her thoughtfully. "Well. I guess that's not the whole point for her."_

"_No," she said looking at him. "It's not."_

_Nodding, Ryan put his hand back on her stomach, slipping his hand just under her t-shirt. He couldn't get over the idea of a baby in there. A child. A child that would be his._

_He rubbed his thumb absently over the skin under his palm._

"_Will you marry me?"_

"_Ryan..." Theresa's eyes were wide, and her voice just a whisper._

_He met her gaze steadily._

"_Will you?"_

_She nodded. "Yes."_

xxxx

"Theresa." Sandy leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry."

"Thank you." She wiped a tear off her cheek, biting back a sob. "I'm sorry. I can't seem to stop."

"It's OK." He perched on the side of the bed, turning to look at Theresa's mother. "How are you, Eva?"

She smiled, wiping at her own eyes, and shrugged. Sandy nodded.

"Ryan's outside. He'd like to see you."

Theresa started shaking her head, tears flowing more freely, "I can't."

"Why? Honey, he's desperate to see you."

"No."

"Theresa, please. He's...."

"No." She cut him off.

"Why not? I don't understand. Are you angry at him?"

"I just... can't."

"Honey..." Sandy was pleading.

"No! Mr. Cohen, I won't see him." She was still crying, but she was firm. "Tell him to go away."

"Why?" Sandy stood up. "Theresa, he loves you. Please, don't do this to him." His voice broke. "Don't do this to him."

Theresa was sobbing now. "Take him back to Newport, Mr. Cohen." She turned on her side, away from Sandy. "I don't want him at our house when I get home. Please."

Astonished, Sandy stared at her back. _What the hell had just happened?_ He turned to Eva, looking for help, but she was crying, too, her face in her hands, refusing to meet his gaze.

Sandy left.

xxxx

Ryan stood as Sandy approached, and Sandy watched as the flicker of hope that had flashed onto the boy's face fled. In its place was the expression Sandy had come to dread, the blank look he'd worn when Sandy had met him in juvie, that had come back too many times over the course of his time in Newport when he'd been disappointed or let down again.

"I'm sorry, kid."

Ryan nodded. _Theresa had lost the baby. And she wouldn't see him. Not even for Sandy._ He didn't know what to do.

The numbness crept over him and he almost welcomed the relief. He stood there, helplessly, staring at Sandy, trying to make his brain function.

Sandy watched as Ryan shut down in front of him, and he saw, for the first time, the grief, the uncertainty, and the desperate need that lurked just under the surface of Ryan's careful façade. _Has that always been there?_ Sandy wondered. And with a pain that caught his breath in his throat, in a startling moment of clarity, he realized it had been. Beneath the mask, buried deep, but shining out of Ryan's eyes. Always there.

Sandy stepped forward and put a careful arm around Ryan's shoulders. "Let's go get your stuff," he said gently. Ryan turned, eyes lost. "You're coming home." Ryan let Sandy lead him out of the clinic.

xxxx

Kirsten called as they were on their way to Theresa's. Sandy spoke softly, conscious of Ryan sitting in the seat next to him, leaning against the door, head against the window. Kirsten seemed to understand that this was not the time to ask question, accepting the change in plans, asking for directions to the house.

"My room's in the back." Ryan picked up his lunchbox and hat as he walked past the kitchen table. Sandy followed, and almost ran into him when the boy stopped abruptly in front of the bloody bathroom.

Ryan dropped the armload he'd been carrying, and went in. "I should clean this up." He reached under the bathroom sink for the cleaning supplies. "This shouldn't be here when she gets back."

"Ryan..." Sandy moved forward.

"She shouldn't have to clean it up." Eyes on the task in front of him, Ryan ignored Sandy's sounds of protest, wetting a rag, and starting to scrub the floor.

Flustered, Sandy started again. "Sweetheart, you shouldn't have to..."

"Hello?" Kirsten's voice drifted back from the kitchen.

Distracted, and relieved that backup had arrived, Sandy left Ryan, hurrying to the front of the house.

"Hey." They embraced.

"Sandy, is he...?"

"He's cleaning up the... the...." Sandy stumbled over his explanation and Kirsten raised a confused eyebrow at him. "Theresa had bled. He... he's cleaning. I can't..."

Kirsten put a hand to her mouth and pushed past her husband.

"Ryan? Sweetie?" She dropped to her knees beside him on the bathroom floor, putting a hand on his head.

Ryan only slowed his frantic scrubbing. "I have to clean this up." He said it fiercely, focused desperately on the movement of his hands. "She shouldn't have to come back to this. She shouldn't."

Kirsten stayed crouched beside him, running her fingers through his hair. Ryan wouldn't look at her. He continued to clean.

"OK," she said softly. She turned and met Sandy's eyes. He nodded. "Let me help."

"No!" Ryan said it sharply, still not looking at her. "I..."

"Ryan," Kirsten said firmly, taking his chin in her hand and forcing his face toward hers. "Let me help." Ryan's eyes met hers momentarily. And in them he saw reflected her love and her grief for him. There was a brief flicker in his eyes, and he shifted slightly, allowing her in.

xxxx

"_You're what?" Sandy's voice was a yelp._

"_We're getting married."_

_Ryan and Theresa had talked to Mrs. Martinez the night before. She'd been thrilled. Ryan had not been sure that the Cohens' response would be the same, so he'd come on his own._

"_Ryan." Sandy's tone of voice told Ryan he was struggling to sound "reasonable." And not angry. Or exasperated._

"_I love her." _

_Sandy raised his eyebrows at that._

"_Five months ago you loved Marissa."_

_Ryan felt an angry flush suffuse him. He concentrated on the counter top in front of him, jaw clenched. He didn't know what made him angrier – the fact that Sandy was right, or that he'd decided to throw the fact in Ryan's face. Ryan took a deep breath._

"_I thought I did." He raised his gaze to Sandy, who just stared back at him. Ryan didn't look away. "I know now that I didn't." _

_Sandy shook his head and snorted softly. "And now you think you love Theresa. And you want to marry her." He pushed away from the island and paced away. "Ryan, you're seventeen."_

_Ryan's eyes followed Sandy's movement. "I know I love her. We're having a baby." He risked a glance at Kirsten, who was leaning against the kitchen counter, watching silently. "This is the right thing to do."_

"'_The right thing to do'?!" Sandy burst out. "Ryan you're seventeen years old! You think it's the right thing to do to get married before you're even out of high school? You have no idea what you're talking about. What you're getting into. You can be involved in this child's life without marrying Theresa."_

"_Not like I want to be. Not like I should be; like a father should be." _

"_Ryan..."_

"_No." Ryan stood up. "We're getting married. You can't stop us."_

"_You think I can't?" Sandy's voice was hard. "I sure as hell can. I'm your guardian. I didn't stop you from going back to Chino, which was clearly a mistake. But I will not let you throw your life away like this. You're underage and you can't marry without our permission."_

_Ryan shoved away from the island counter, backing away from Sandy, knocking over the stool he'd been sitting on. He was suddenly enraged – furious that Sandy was refusing to listen to him. His self-control had been shaky from the moment the conversation had started, and it now slipped completely out of his grasp._

_Kirsten watched Ryan go deadly pale and then flush crimson. "It's my life!" Ryan's voice rose to a shout. Kirsten jumped. She'd never heard him raise his voice before, especially not to Sandy. "You can't tell me what to do!" All the bottled up emotion of the past 5 months seemed to be pouring out of him as he stood, fists clenched. He found himself screaming, "You're not my father!"_

_Sandy flinched at the words, and stumbling back, Ryan tripped over the school as he turned, aiming for the door into the living room. But, Sandy, recovering quickly, was too fast, and he caught Ryan as he staggered. _

"_Sit down."_

_Ryan twisted away, ignoring Sandy completely. He headed toward the back door._

"_Ryan." Kirsten finally spoke. She moved to the French door. Extending a hand toward him, she said softly, "Honey, please."_

_Ryan stopped abruptly. Kirsten could see the anguish on his face – the anger and fear and disappointment. He wrapped his arms around himself as he took a couple of steps back, away from her._

"_You can't tell me what to do." He wasn't yelling at her, but she could hear the grim defiance in his voice._

_Kirsten heard Sandy take a breath to respond, and spoke quickly._

"_Ryan, please, let's discuss this." He'd already started shaking his head. _

"_It's not a discussion if you're just telling me what to do."_

_She turned her head to Sandy, catching his eyes._

"_You're right." She took a careful step forward. "Just don't leave, OK?"_

_His head was down, but he watched Kirsten through his bangs. He needs a haircut again, she thought, apropos of nothing. His eyes flicked to Sandy and back to her._

"_Please sit down, Ryan." Sandy's voice was soft_

_Ryan turned his head_

"_I'll listen, OK? I will."_

_Arms still crossed over his chest, Ryan shrugged his assent; but he didn't move toward a chair._

_Sandy pulled one out for him. Sullenly, Ryan dropped into it. Head still down, he radiated affronted anger._

"_What are you thinking?" Ryan flinched at the question, almost coming out of the chair._

"_Wait." Sandy raised a hand. "That came out harsher than I intended." He ran a hand over his face._

"_I just mean, tell me what you're thinking. Tell me what your thought process has been. What makes you so sure this is the right thing to do?"_

_Kirsten had drawn up a chair for herself, and she sat down next to Ryan._

_Ryan had already exhausted his prepared speech for the evening. It had pretty much been, "So. Theresa and I? We're getting married." He wasn't sure where to go from there. He started picking at the knee of his jeans._

_Kirsten leaned over, trying to make him look at her. _

"_Honey, we just want to understand." She put a gentle hand over his, stilling the jerking movement of his fingers._

_Ryan pulled his hand out from under Kirsten's and she withdrew her own, slightly stung. Ryan crossed his arms over his chest again. The silence stretched out. _

_Kirsten could feel Sandy practically vibrating with impatience beside her. But to his credit, Sandy held his peace._

"_I do love her."_

_Kirsten spared a glance for Sandy._

"_I love her and I want to be there for her. I want to be a father for this child. And being a father to a kid means being a husband to its mother."_

"_Ryan...."_

"_It does, Sandy. Being the boyfriend isn't the same. It isn't."_

_Ryan finally looked up. "Whatever kind of screwed up mess my parents' marriage ended up being, they cared enough to try and be a family. At least for awhile." He took a deep breath. "I'm not saying it was perfect. But I know my dad was around until I was ten. I know he didn't choose to leave. And I know that while he was around, I didn't get my ass kicked. By anyone." _

_Ryan got up from his chair and moved away; away from Kirsten and Sandy. But he didn't try to leave._

"_I had friends growing up; friends whose parents weren't married, friends who got girls pregnant and didn't get married. None of them hung around. None of them protected their kids. It's too easy to leave when you're not married. And when you leave, other boyfriends move in."_

_His voice dropped to a whisper. "And that's when things get bad." His breathing had finally steadied after his outburst, and he drew in a calming breath. "I won't let that happen to another kid. Not when I can do something about it."_

"_Ryan." Kirsten looked at Sandy for guidance, but he could only stare helplessly back at her. "I know that you want to protect this child, and I love that about who you are." She stopped. "But you need to understand that Sandy and I want to protect you. It's our job to protect you." Ryan was still refusing to meet her eyes. She paused again. "And being married, so young, is going to be hard. It's going to be so hard for you and Theresa. We want to spare you that."_

"_You and Sandy were young."_

_Sandy stepped forward and Kirsten watched Ryan tense slightly._

"_We were out of high school." Sandy's voice was tinged with frustration. "Kirsten was in college. I was in law school. It isn't the same."_

"_Why not? You got married for the same reason, didn't you?" His head came up and he looked defiantly at Sandy. He was studiously avoiding Kirsten's gaze, and she watched the pink in his cheeks turn to crimson. Kirsten felt her own face warm in response. "You decided that you loved each other and it was worth the sacrifice, right? You didn't have to get married, either. But you did." _

"_You're saying it will be hard. You think I don't know that? You think I don't know what a hard life is like? That this will be any more difficult than a mom who's a drunk, with boyfriends who beat you up and sell drugs out of your house?" Ryan's voice was incredulous. _

"_I know it's going to be hard. I do. I know that I haven't finished high school; that we'll have to work; that it isn't going to be easy. But I am going to finish high school. Maybe even go to college. It just..." He paused and took a steadying breath. "It just won't be like you thought it would be."_

"_Like I thought it would be," he whispered._

_Not sure how to respond, neither Sandy nor Kirsten spoke._

_He looked at them both, pleadingly, and Kirsten thought she'd never thought seen him look so young, so vulnerable. He sat down abruptly, like his legs couldn't hold him anymore and bringing his arms up, covered his head, leaning down, until his face was buried in his knees. Suddenly it was too much. He couldn't stand being at odds with them, fighting with the two people who had supported him more than anyone else in his life. "I'm sorry." Kirsten could barely hear him. "I'm so sorry."_

_She moved forward, crouching in front of him. "Sweetie..." _

_He raised his head, eyes filled with unwanted, unexpected tears. "I know I've let you down." He wiped angrily at his eyes. "And I'm sorry for some of the things I said." He looked brokenly at Sandy. "It's just. I know that this is right for us. And I wanted ... I wanted you to be OK with it." He glanced down at his hands, clasping and unclasping them sporadically. "I have to do what I think is right for us, for the baby."_

_He looked at Kirsten, eyes exhausted. "Please. Just don't be mad at me," he whispered._

xxxx

Ryan had been home for three weeks, and Kirsten was at a loss. She had her son back, but he wasn't the same boy. She hadn't expected him to be, really, but she didn't know what to do with this shell of Ryan that he'd become. She didn't know how to make him better.

He'd never cried, he'd never broken down. He hadn't displayed an emotion as far as Kirsten knew since he'd been back in Newport. He went through the motions with all of them, playing video games with Seth, smiling mechanically at Sandy's little jokes, dutifully helping Kirsten pick out colors for his new room in the house. But his eyes were empty and his interaction with everyone around him listless.

Kirsten picked up the mail on her way into the kitchen, sorting it as she went. She stopped at a battered envelope addressed to her. The post mark read Atlanta, Georgia. Setting the rest of the mail on the kitchen counter, she slit open the letter.

_Dear Kirsten_, it began.

xxxx

Kirsten knocked gently on Ryan's door. "Ryan?"

"Come in."

Ryan was propped up on the bed, one knee drawn up, an arm behind his head, reading a book. "Hey."

"Hey." She smiled a brief, uncertain smile at him, and sat gingerly on the edge, of the bed.

He didn't say anything, just watched her, as she fiddled with the letter she held. He'd always been so contained, she thought. But the stillness, the quiet, he'd returned with made her want to weep at the pain and confusion she knew it covered.

"I got a letter today. From Theresa." She watched him pale, and he drew in a sharp, surprised breath. But he didn't say a word.

"She asked me to give you this." Kirsten extended the envelope she'd been toying with. Ryan reached out a hesitant hand. "When I thought you were ready." She put her hand back in her lap. "She told me I could read it, but I want you to know that I didn't."

She stood. "I'll leave you alone. I...I'll be downstairs, if you need me, OK?" Ryan's eyes were on the letter in his hand.

Kirsten smoothed her palms over her slacks, and turned to go.

"Will you stay with me?"

Without a word, she sat back down.

She spent the next several minutes examining the room, while Ryan read. In spite of the way he seemed to be holding himself apart from the Cohens, he'd embraced the new room as his own. She hadn't noticed it before, and it made her smile to see his books and his computer on his desk, soccer balls and weights shoved into a corner, dirty clothes and belts draped over a chair, comics strewn across the bed and floor. He was home.

Her eyes snapped to him when she heard the rustle of paper. He was done, and silently, he held the letter out to her. They stared at each other for a moment.

"You can read it, if you want," he said softly.

Kirsten took it from him, and bent her head to read.

_Dear Ryan,_

_I'm sorry that I wouldn't see you after I lost the baby. I know that I hurt you, but if I saw you then, I wouldn't have been able to do what I knew I needed to do. And that was let you go. _

_I know that if we had gotten married and had the baby we would have made it work. We would have done what we needed to do. We would have been there for each other – you would have protected me and I would have protected you. Together we would have protected our child and made a life for him. But all that changed when I had the miscarriage. I know it doesn't change the fact that I love you and that you love me. But it changes what we need. If we were going to have a baby, we needed each other. Without the baby, we need different things._

_I need to go somewhere I can start over, go back to school, figure out what I want to do with my life. You need to go back to the Cohens, to a home that's safe, to parents who love you, who will protect you. You've never really had that, Ryan, and you deserve it. You need it._

_I love you. I love our baby. I wish things could have been different. _

_Please be safe. Be happy. _

_Love,_

_Theresa_

Kirsten read the letter one more time, and when she finished, she looked up at Ryan, eyes full of unshed tears.

"Are you OK?" she asked.

Ryan nodded, but she could see the uncertainty in his expression.

"Yeah?"

He nodded again, but unsteadily, and his face started to crumple.

"Oh, sweetie," Kirsten cried, reaching for him, even as he moved forward into her arms.

The storm of tears abated eventually, and Kirsten held Ryan until the sobs had subsided to shuddering breaths and sniffles. When the worst was over she shifted her position gently, easing him onto the bed, so that he was lying down with his head in her lap. Murmuring reassurances to him, she threaded her fingers through his hair until he fell asleep.


	4. Epilogue

_Protection – Epilogue_

Kirsten sat in one of the patio chairs, watching the men in her life float lazily around the pool. Seth, Sandy and Ryan talked languidly as they drifted. Occasionally, she heard muffled laughter or the sound of Ryan's soft sardonic voice. It had been such a long, hard summer. It was a relief and a joy to watch them together. She smiled and dropped her eyes to the book she was reading.

In the background she heard someone, Sandy, she realized, get out of the pool. He went into the kitchen and came back out with the chicken they'd marinated for the grill. He put the meat on and went to stand on the edge of the pool talking to Seth. Kirsten looked up and paused, enjoying the sight of her husband and her son easy in each other's company.

Out of the corner of her eye, Kirsten caught sight of Ryan pulling himself slowly out of the pool. She watched him ease stealthily toward Sandy, just out of Sandy's range of vision. Her eyes went back to Sandy and Seth, and she saw Seth's gaze flick to Ryan before settling back on his father. The corner of his mouth twitched almost imperceptibly, and Kirsten saw the mischief in her son's eyes. Kirsten bit back a laugh and hid behind her book, watching as Ryan snuck up on her husband. Sandy, totally absorbed in whatever conversational gambit Seth had dragged him into, was oblivious. Seth ran his hands through the water, subtly shifting the position of his float until he was no longer directly in front of his father. Sandy had just turned his torso slightly to adjust to Seth's change in position when the flat of Ryan's hands struck him solidly in the back.

Caught completely unaware, Sandy staggered, arms flailing, into the pool. Seth's and Ryan's screams of laughter surely carried under the surface, because Sandy erupted from the water, slinging water out of his eyes, and already reaching for Seth's float. His hand caught the arm of the chair, and he jerked down, flipping Seth into the water. Seth's howls were drowned as he went under and Sandy got a grip, holding his struggling son down. Seth slipped from Sandy's grasp and surfaced, his laughter ringing out as he made for the side of the pool.

Ryan was grinning, backing away from the pool, but he'd been distracted by Seth, and he missed Sandy as his foster father vaulted out of the pool, putting himself between Ryan and escape into the house. Ryan froze, eyes going from Sandy to Seth and back to Sandy. He was crouched, heart pounding, as he cast about for a way around Sandy.

"Oh, yeah, kid." Sandy mimicked Ryan's posture, spreading his arms in anticipation of Ryan's trying to get past him. "You are so dead."

Ryan backed carefully away. And then broke and ran.

Sandy gave chase, and the two of them slipped and skittered around the pool area, both almost wiping out several times. As Ryan dodged Sandy again, and headed toward Kirsten, she stood up abruptly, ready to put an end to the game before either of them got hurt.

"That's enough!"

Ryan made a split decision and instead of changing direction – or stopping – he ducked behind Kirsten, putting her between him and Sandy. Kirsten could hear the labored breathing and gasping laughter behind her and instinctively she spread her arms as she faced her husband.

"Sandy."

"Move out of the way, woman. He's mine."

Ryan's fingers touched Kirsten's shoulders lightly, as he crouched behind her. "Kirsten," he pled, and she could hear the giggle in his voice.

Sandy was advancing, and Kirsten moved back, still keeping herself between Sandy and Ryan.

"Let's be reasonable."

"No."

Kirsten laughed out loud. "Sandy!"

"The boy pushed me in the water, Kirsten. Vengeance must be exacted."

"Vengeance?" Kirsten arched an eyebrow at him. "Exacted? Sandy, please."

As Kirsten tried to negotiate with Sandy, Ryan peeked around her and caught Seth's eye. Seth raised his eyebrows at Ryan, eyes going from Kirsten to the pool and back again, an evil grin splitting his face. Ryan shook his head. _No_. Seth was nodding enthusiastically, eyebrows wriggling wildly. _Come on, man!_ he mouthed. The nodding got more emphatic. Ryan ducked back behind Kirsten again, resting his forehead briefly against her shoulder blade, struggling to resist the siren call of Seth's eyebrows. _Crap._

"Sandy, no!" Kirsten was giggling as she wrapped her arms back around Ryan. "Leave him alone!"

"Oh, he's mine," Sandy menaced, and, with a sudden burst of speed, closed the gap between himself and Kirsten. He reached both arms around Kirsten and engulfed both his wife and Ryan in a tight embrace. "Now, you're both going in."

Kirsten gave a startled scream, and Ryan's yelp of surprise became a shout of laughter, as he felt Sandy's hands scrabbling for hold on his shoulders. He made himself go limp, staggering Sandy as the older man suddenly found himself dealing with a recalcitrant anchor in Ryan.

Not in the least dissuaded by Ryan's disapproval of his plan, Seth joined the melee, wrapping a hand around Kirsten's wrist, working with his father to force his mother toward the pool. Seth trusted that Ryan would, as always, get with the program if Seth just got things rolling in the right direction.

Kirsten's shriek of protest at Seth's attack goaded on her husband and her dark headed son, and they laughed, both shifting their grips, angling for a better hold.

Jump-started by Kirsten's cry for help, Ryan, still wet from the pool, finally managed to wriggle out of Sandy's tenuous grasp. Slipping free, Ryan now wrapped an arm around Kirsten's midriff and held on. Reaching out, he clamped his free hand around Seth's wrist, where the other boy had managed to get a grip on his mother's arm. Squeezing hard, and digging a thumb into the tender underside of the wrist, Ryan made Seth let go with a yell.

"Hey! Ow!"

Sandy turned his head sharply, instinctively following the yelp of pain from his son, and Kirsten, seeing an opening, brought her foot down hard on Sandy's instep. More surprised than hurt, Sandy still let go of Kirsten to steady himself as he fell back. Ryan jerked her clear, and the two of them sprinted to the relative safety of the patio close to the kitchen. Putting themselves behind the table and chairs, they struggled to catch their breath, while Sandy and Seth regrouped.

"Dude." Seth was shaking his head, rubbing his wrist and wincing. "You're taking Mom's side against your own brother? That's just wrong."

Sandy steadied himself against Seth, hopping on one foot and rotating his ankle. "Honey, you wound me."

Kirsten ignored her husband, though she kept a wary eye on him, and turned to Ryan, who was watching Seth and Sandy intently, a small, and she'd have to say, slightly smug smile on his face. Now, he turned to meet her gaze, the smirk still in place; she could tell he was waiting to see what she wanted to do.

Kirsten looked casually over at her son and her husband, who had turned their backs on their prey, and were whispering animatedly to each other. _Fools!_ She thought, mentally rubbing her hands together.

"They're awfully close to the edge, don't you think?" She barely moved her lips, and Ryan had to strain to catch the words. His eyes darted poolside, and back to her. The grin that split his face thrilled her to her core. Eyes wide with anticipation and the taste of sweet victory, he nodded, moving quickly, Kirsten right behind him.

Seth and Sandy were so engrossed in their plans that they didn't see Ryan and Kirsten coming until it was too late.

xxxx

Later that night Kirsten sat at the kitchen table and listened to the sound of the boys rehashing the events from the afternoon. She could hear the aggrieved sound of Seth's recitation and the rumble of Ryan's good-natured responses. A burst of easy laughter from Ryan made her head turn, and Kristen smiled as Ryan came into the kitchen trailed by an agitated Seth. Ryan gave Kirsten a quick conspiratorial grin as he passed her, reaching into the fridge for a bottle of water on his way to the back door.

Catching sight of the exchange, Seth protested, "Ryan. Dude. You cannot align yourself with the Kirsten! How are we going to take over the household if you're not with me on this!" Ryan kept walking. "Seriously." Seth hurried to catch up. And the conversation continued out of Kirsten's hearing.

Her eyes followed the boys across the patio to the pool house. It was no longer Ryan's room – he was in the house for good – but Seth had claimed it as a place for the two of them to "escape" the "oppression" of the big house on occasion. Kirsten and Sandy were willing to allow Seth the illusion of control over that space. For now.

The interaction between the boys had changed subtly since the summer. Kirsten had realized recently that Ryan, for all the appearance of alpha male he seemed to project, really was quite passive in his relationship with Seth. It had been Seth who had driven their friendship - who had made plans, who had had ideas. Ryan had been content to follow Seth's lead in most areas, especially in the boys' relationship with Kirsten and Sandy. Since he'd moved back home, Ryan had become more proactive in reaching out to the adult Cohens, a sign, they both realized, of his increasing confidence in his place with them. He'd also begun to hold his ground with Seth; a fact that was befuddling the youngest Cohen to no end.

It was ironic, Kirsten thought, that just as Seth was beginning to assert his independence from his parents, he got a brother who was learning to be dependent on parents for the first time. As Seth was struggling to pull away from them, Ryan was recognizing that he needed them, that he wanted them. Where Seth was determined to make decisions on his own, Ryan sought out Sandy and Kirsten, haltingly asking their opinion, listening, processing. It didn't mean he always followed their advice, but they both recognized the fact that he asked was significant.

Kirsten marveled at this new child she'd been given in the weeks since the letter from Theresa had arrived. The change had been gradual, but steady, a slow revelation of a Ryan she had seen glimpses of in the past, but was now being granted full access to. She was stunned.

xxxx

The night he'd cried himself to sleep, Sandy had found her still stroking Ryan's hair almost two hours after he'd drifted off. She couldn't bring herself to leave, and there hadn't been a reason to until Sandy had stuck his head in the door when he'd come home.

"Hey," he'd whispered. "Everything OK?"

"I'm afraid to move," she'd whispered back. Sandy crossed the room to the bed, and kissed her softly on the mouth.

"Is he OK?" He reached down, skimming his own hand over Ryan's head.

"Tough day."

He nodded.

"Need some help getting him settled?"

"I don't want to wake him up."

Sandy smiled fondly at her. "Honey."

She sighed. "I know."

She slipped a gentle hand under Ryan's cheek holding his head level as she moved her leg out from under it. Slowly she lowered him to the bed while she stood. Easing her hand free, she paused to see if he'd wake. He didn't. She stepped back and Sandy stepped forward.

"Hey, kiddo." He put a hand on Ryan's shoulder. "Let's get you under the covers." Ryan gave a heavy sigh and sluggishly sat up. Sandy guided him up and back down, placing his head on the pillow. Sandy worked the bedspread and sheets out from under him, while Kirsten stripped him of his boots and socks. Ryan didn't stir.

Sandy draped the covers over Ryan's inert form, and they tiptoed out of the room, shutting the door softly behind them.

Sandy draped an arm over his wife's shoulder. "Want to tell me about the tough day?"

She had told him what she thought she should, trusting that Ryan would tell Sandy anything else he wanted him to know.

The next morning, Ryan had come downstairs late, sitting at the table and eating his breakfast without saying a word. He didn't speak unless directly addressed for the next three days. Kirsten had hovered anxiously around him, trying not to fuss, but uncertain what to do. Ryan had accepted her presence, even seemed to welcome it, and Sandy tried to reassure her.

"Honey, give him some time. He's figuring things out in his own way." He paused. "Frankly, I think it's a good sign he hasn't tried to kill you, given the way you've been smothering him." She'd slapped at him and walked out of the room.

The turning point came the evening of the fourth day. Seth was rambling about some new comic that was coming out the following day, and Kirsten was fighting the urge to let her head drop dramatically into her soup, when Ryan spoke.

"I think I'll go out for soccer this fall."

Three heads swiveled toward him.

Sandy started laughing at the utter unexpectedness of the comment, and Kirsten struggled not to do the same thing. The Cohens looked at each other.

"It speaks!" Seth crowed.

"OK, sweetie," she said gently to Ryan, making shushing motions at Seth.

She glanced at Sandy and back at Ryan.

"Is it time to register?"

Ryan looked at her in surprise. "No."

"O.K." Kirsten was confused.

"I just was thinking about it and I thought I'd tell you."

Sandy nodded solemnly.

"Good idea."

He was biting back a smile, but made the mistake of looking at Kirsten, who started to giggle. Relief and amusement and a sudden drop in the tension that had filled the house for weeks sent them over the edge. Sandy's smile became a laugh, and his laugh a guffaw, Kirsten's own giggles turned into gasps of laughter, and she leaned over the table, clutching her head in her hands.

Ryan stared at them like they were crazy, and looked at Seth for confirmation that the adults had, indeed, gone around the bend. But Seth was grinning at him like a madman.

"Dang, bro. Non-sequitor much?" And started to laugh.

Ryan sat at the table as Seth and Sandy and Kirsten cried in hysterics. His face was so bewildered, and frankly, pissed, that whichever of the Cohens looked at him went into new gales of laughter. It was a vicious cycle they seemed helpless to stop.

Ryan glared at them all, his scowl fixed.

It was Kirsten ultimately, who managed to get herself under control.

"Honey, I'm sorry." She reached out and put a hand on his arm, even as she wiped the tears from her face with the other. "We just... You've hardly said anything in days, and Seth was going on and on and on about some silly comic book..."

"Hey!"

"... and then suddenly you start talking about soccer and the fall like, well, like...," she was smiling at him and petting him coaxingly, and abruptly he realized how oddly out of place his declaration had been. He ducked his head and grinned sheepishly at her.

"Oh." He looked sideways at Sandy and Seth. "Sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry for, kid," Sandy said happily. Seth nodded his head in giddy agreement.

Kirsten got up, and taking Ryan's face in both her hands, kissed him lightly on the top of his head. "We'll get you signed up for soccer in the fall."

xxxx

Kirsten traced Ryan's slow journey toward them from that moment, and Kirsten and Sandy had watched the transformation in Ryan in wonder. He was still the same watchful, thoughtful boy he'd always been, but the funny, open kid they'd seen flashes of made more frequent, longer appearances. More and more now, that watchfulness was observation instead of wariness.

The first indication they'd gotten of the change had been his increased teasing of Seth. It had gone unnoticed initially, because he was Ryan, and the jibes were subtle, but Kirsten began to recognize a certain glint in his eyes just before the zingers were launched. Sometimes they stopped the flow of words from Seth abruptly, sometimes they changed the words to giggles or laughs, and sometimes they made Sandy and Kirsten look at Ryan in surprised admiration, the sharpness and timing of his comments striking with precision accuracy.

Kirsten realized how far he'd come now that she found herself on the receiving end of Ryan's humor occasionally. He was gentler with her, but the twinkle in his eyes was the same. And she loved it.

xxxx

Kirsten was still working at the kitchen table when Ryan wandered back into the room. She glanced at the clock.

"Are you still up?" She frowned slightly as she looked up.

Ryan shrugged, reaching for a glass. He shuffled groggily to the freezer to get ice.

Kirsten put her pen down as she considered his back.

"Are you having a hard time sleeping?"

He shrugged again, heading to the sink to fill up his glass with water. He took a long drink as he looked out the window.

"What are you working on?" Turning, he joined her at the table, sleepily surveying the mess.

She sighed as she looked at the stacks of paper spread out in front of her. Kirsten ran her hands through her hair, willing – for the moment – to let him distract her.

"It's the Corona project." Exhausted, she let her arms fall to the table and rested her forehead on the hard surface between them. "I hate it."

Ryan laughed softly. "You've been working on it a lot, that's for sure."

She turned her head to look at him, raising her head to rest her cheek on her bicep.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"I wasn't..."

Kirsten sat up. "I know you weren't, sweetie. Just working mother guilt. Ignore me."

She surveyed the clutter in front of her.

"I'm done." Groaning, she stood, trying to work out the kinks in her back with some bending contortions. "Are you ready to go back up?"

Nodding his acquiescence, Ryan rose, draining his glass. He put it in the dishwasher and flipped off the kitchen lights.

When they got to the top of the stairs, Kirsten preceded Ryan into his room, turning on the bedside lamp as she approached the bed. Without thought, she straightened his sheets and comforter, fluffing his pillow before she turned. Picking up the empty glass on his bedside table, she went into the bathroom as Ryan climbed drowzily into bed. Kirsten considered the tumbler as she filled it with water. She wondered what sent him down to the kitchen when he had a glass by his bed. Rooting around the medicine cabinet, she found the appropriate bottle and shook a couple of Advil into her palm. Returning, she held out the tablets and glass.

"I don't have a headache," Ryan said even as he reached out a hand to her. He threw the pills into his mouth, swallowing them with a gulp of water before he put the glass back on the table.

"I know. But sometimes a couple of aspirin will take the edge off."

He nodded and lay back down, rolling over on his side, so that he was facing the door. Kirsten turned off the light and sat down on the edge of the bed, smoothing the comforter over him.

"Did you have a bad dream?" she asked softly, her hand still resting gently on his shoulder.

She thought for a moment that he wouldn't respond, but then, in the darkness, she could just see the answer in the halting movement of his head, feel it in the shuddering of his shoulder under her hand.

"I can always tell when Seth has bad dreams. When he was younger, he used to come get in bed with us." Ryan could hear her voice soften with the memory, and the knot in his stomach, an after-effect of the dream, loosened some more. "When he got older, he started finding one of us when we were working late. Or he'd just come into our room and wake us up to ask weird questions – did we turn the iron off? When was the last time the pool got chlorinated? Who invented liquid soap and why?" She shook her head and smiled, feeling the answering shake of Ryan's shoulder as he snickered.

They were quiet for a minute, and in the safety of the dark, Ryan whispered. "I like knowing that you're there." He paused and Kirsten held her breath. "Lots of times mom wasn't. I'd go look for her and she wouldn't be there, wouldn't be home. Or someone else would be there."

Kirsten moved her hand from his shoulder to his head, soothing.

"We'll always be here," she said.

"I know."

"Good."

Leaning over, she kissed him on the cheek.

"Goodnight, sweetie."

"Goodnight."

The door closed behind her, and Ryan pulled the covers up to his chin, his eyes sliding shut as he drifted back to sleep.

And in his dream, the gray coldness of the juvenile detention center began to shimmer and change, golden light piercing the walls as they dissolved. He was by the pool with Sandy and Seth and Kirsten. And in the odd way of dreams, his perspective wavered, and he saw Kirsten, her arms spread, standing between him and the grayness as it receded into nothingness.

The End


End file.
